


You are not You

by xyphe



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyphe/pseuds/xyphe
Summary: "The chill wind made the new being’s tattered cloak flap in the wind, and pale frozen fingers clutched tightly at the edge of the hood to keep it from moving. Korba could see little else of the being until a particularly nasty snap of the wind plucked the hood of the cloak from the cold fingers and a pale but indistinct face appeared for a moment until a shaking hand grabbed the hood back. That and the curled, bare toes also revealed by the wind, confirmed the species.Ah, human, Korba thought."_____A new figure shows up in a place where no one but the desperate live. Korba, a being who spends some time there every day, notices this new one and wonders about it._____
Comments: 18
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is the obligatory amnesia fic, inspired by a character’s comment in the show. (That will hopefully make more sense as this story continues). This will have shifting POVs, including Din's, but an OC's POV is the main one at first.
> 
> This is completely unbeta’d and I don’t often write anything, so apologies for how rough this is and any errors. 
> 
> Tags and warnings will update as the fic grows, but the rating shouldn’t change. 
> 
> The story is all plotted out and I have around 8k already written – including the ending. Time for writing isn’t very consistent, so I won’t have a set update schedule, but I will update as often as possible as I finish making edits and I'm hoping to post at least once a week.  
>   
> 

Pain. Fear, panic. Brief flashes, _something_ , corner of eye. Turn. Nothing there. Stumble. Fall. Hands hurt. _Head hurt._ Blind instinct, _get up._ Pain. Steal a cloak, just hanging there, _grab it,_ wrap it tight. _Face, hide face._ Hide. _Where, where, where is it?_ Panic again, looking. Not finding. 

_Here._ Here was dark. Dark, safety. Something solid. Back against it. Others, other shapes. Shapes that look the same. _Water. Desperate._ Drink water, water trickling from stone. Safe. _Safe for now?_ Rest. Pain. PAIN. Sharp pain and sharper thoughts in head. _No! Don’t think!_

For now, rest, rest and safe. They couldn’t find him. Maybe later, but not now. Rest now. They couldn’t find HIM. Looking, looking for HIM. _No! Not here. Where? Don’t, can’t, DON’T remember._ Rest. Just another lump on the pavement, in the dark. Rest. Pain. _Don’t remember._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Junkyard, as it was known to locals, was filled with what some considered the living junk of the galaxy. The poor and homeless, the lost and the hopeless, the criminal and hiding, the hunted and desperate, the sick and dying; they all crowded the warren of alleys permitted them in miserable, huddled lumps almost indistinguishable one from the next. The rest of the planet did its best to forget they were there. 

The being known as Korba knew it well. He had lived there for several years until luck and hard work brought him out of it. But he never forgot it. Every day, after evening meal and usually in the dark, he would bring what small supplies and food stuff he had, giving it to the hapless creatures residing there. He could not cover the whole warren so he always gravitated to the wretched and cold spot he had once called home. 

Over the years of doing this he had witnessed many beings come and go. Some were there for years, others for just a few days or even hours. Each one he met he tried to mark and remember. For he was possibly the only being who would remember them when they were gone. No being deserved to have left no mark upon the universe. So Korba would remember them and make note of their mark upon the universe, even if it was just a shy glance, or a smile at the food, or even a snarl of anger and fright at being approached. He remembered them all. 

Even though he would witness and remember, Korba would not get involved other than passing out what extra little food he had and the small supplies. There were too many beings to do more than that and also get attached. He tried to hold back any satisfaction or pleasure he got out of helping these beings, partly because he could do no more for them, and partly because it hurt too much when one of them died or went missing. Too many gone too quickly, too many lingering too long in suffering, too many dangers, and too expensive to help more. Korba might not live there any more, but he did not have much more than those that lived in the Junkyard. 

No, it was best to help, but stay distant.

But noticing that they lived and that they left a mark, no matter how small on him, and therefore upon the universe? That, that he could do for them. 

So, as he approached the little, dirty nook he remembered so very well, he quickly saw the new huddled figure with its back pressed as far against the stone wall as it could, and as far away from others as it could get. As Korba made his rounds, dealing out what little bread, nuts and fruit he had as fairly as he could, he kept an eye on the new being as he got closer. He could not tell because of the shadows and the cloak, but some instinct made Korba aware that the new being watched him just as much as he watched it. 

The chill wind made the new being’s tattered cloak flap in the wind, and pale frozen fingers clutched tightly at the edge of the hood to keep it from moving. Korba could see little else of the being until a particularly nasty snap of the wind plucked the hood of the cloak from the cold fingers and a pale but indistinct face appeared for a moment until a shaking hand grabbed the hood back. That and the curled, bare toes also revealed by the wind, confirmed the species. 

_Ah, human,_ Korba thought. _The food will be appropriate then._

The last little bit of food held in a small container, Korba approached the new being, both hands holding out the container to show he had no weapons in his hands and posed no threat. The human drew back even further into the shadows of the stone wall. 

“Would you like some food?” Korba asked in Basic. “It is fresh and filling, though not large in quantity. It is free and no favor will be asked of you. Ask the others if you will, they know me here and I take no advantage.” 

Korba wasn’t sure the human understood him as it made no reply nor any movement. Korba knelt so he was on an eye level with the human, though with the shadows he could not tell if it was using any eyes to look at him, besides that instinctive feeling that he was being closely studied. 

“It will not harm you,” Korba said softly, and placed the container on the ground and slowly slid it closer to the human, then sat back away from the food. Korba kept his hands out on his knees, palms up, to continue showing there was no threat here. 

The human finally stirred and slowly reached one finger out to the container and pulled it towards itself but still made no movement to eat.

“I will leave this with you, then,” Korba said and slowly stood up. “I am sure you already know this, but eat quickly or some other might try to take it from you.” 

A slight stirring of the head that might have been a nod, and Korba knew he could make no more difference here tonight. Korba stood up, slowly, and backed away. 

He made one last round, taking back the now empty food containers from those willing to give them up. The other containers he would not see again, for those in the Junkyard had very little and a new possession was coveted. 

As he circled back towards the human, he saw the food was gone from the container. Food was also rare in the Junkyard, and Korba had never seen it wasted, especially fresh food that was not full of mold or filth. Korba stamped down the satisfaction he felt at being able to provide that rare and fresh meal. 

Korba picked up the last empty containers, but decided against approaching the skittish human again that night. Once was possibly more than it could tolerate. 

As he turned to leave, more movement from the human caught his eye. The human, still wrapped completely in the cloak, slowly held out a bit of bread to the darkest shadows nearest it. Just as slowly, a tiny hand reached out to take it. Korba squinted, trying to make out what it was. Little things, small things, they were the weakest in the Junkyard and none lasted for long. It was no animal, though, Korba was sure. 

The being that belonged to the little hand had to take a small and scared step out of the deep shadow in order to reach the bread, but it did, and Korba was able to see it clearly. 

_An Anzellan._ Korba had traveled widely in his younger years, many ages ago, and Anzellans were seldom seen. _Hard times indeed if this one was here!_

Korba did not expect to see it again after this night. The human was either foolish or brave for sharing its own meager meal with something that would pass so quickly. But Korba could not deny that such kindness from a resident of the Junkyard was rare. Korba in all his years, both living in and now just visiting the Junkyard, could count on two hands the number of times he had seen a being share food or other resources with another. 

There just was not enough for one being living in the Junkyard to share resources and be able to survive themselves. Even if for a small moment a resident had extra, the life one lived in the Junkyard hammered every being into a numb and wary soul. If one shared, one must have more to take, and instantly became the target everyone watched and hunted, waiting until they could take.

But this human, not only did it share one part of its bread with this Anzellan, it then gave the tiny creature a small piece of fruit. 

If Korba had realized the Anzellan was there, he would have served it part of the food. Tomorrow, if it was still here, Korba would give it more food. But Korba marked the being well, it was probably the only time he would see it. 

There was nothing left that Korba could do, so, holding his empty containers, he was gone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next day after evening meal, Korba came with his containers of food and a small pack. He repeated the same pattern as he had the last night, quickly and quietly doling out food. He was both happy and sad to see the same new figure in its spot next to the stone wall. He could not see the Anzellan. 

Again he left the human for last, kneeling and setting a small container down and sliding it towards the human, then once again leaving his hands open and palms up on his knees. 

The finger was no less hesitant, but it did pull the food back to it again. Korba did not move away as he had last time. Instead, he reached into the small pack and pulled out strips of cloth. 

“I have no appropriate footwear for a human, but this bit of cloth bound on your feet will help with the cold. May I?”

Another stirring of the head but this one a definite shake. No, then. 

“It is understood,” Korba said. “I will leave this with you and perhaps you may bind them to your feet.”

There was no response, so Korba left the strips of cloth in a small pile, as close as he dared place them next to the human. 

Korba started to rise and then paused. 

“The Anzellan, the small being next to you last night. Is it still here? I have food for it as well if that is so.”

For a long moment Korba did not think the human would respond, but eventually a slow shake of the head confirmed what Korba had guessed. Little beings did not last long in the Junkyard. Perhaps the human itself had done away with it, even after sharing its meal.

So again, Korba was done and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t seen Rise of Skywalker, that’s where the Anzellan comes from - it’s a never before seen Star Wars species.   
> (brief edit made on the 12th because I still haven't figured out how chapter notes work.)


	2. Chapter 2

The next four evenings went much the same. Korba served food, and everyone in that little corner of the Junkyard, including the human, took it. Korba noted that the human had wrapped its feet in the cloth strips. _Good, the human’s feet will not suffer so much; perhaps it will keep its toes._

Any time Korba saw it, the human always had the cloak clamped down tight over its head and face, as deep in shadows as it could get. Korba suspected it was more than just cold that drove the human’s behavior. 

_Is it one of the hunted?_ Korba mused. _And if it is, is it because it is criminal or because it was in the wrong place at the wrong time?_

But Korba shook off those thoughts. Those kind of thoughts led to pain and sorrow and he, Korba, had already seen and had enough of that. But here, here he could do some small measure of good and show a small measure of kindness and thus, leave his own mark upon the universe. 

This evening, as Korba set out the food and slid it towards the human, the human stirred and moved slightly forward. 

Korba tensed up. It did not happen often, but some beings attacked him despite the care he showed them. It was a desperate place and a being could be motivated by anything. 

But no violence was coming from the human, at least not tonight. Instead, the human pulled out the other containers that Korba had previously left and slid them to him, empty. Its hand shook. 

“Ah, this is much appreciated,” Korba said as he waited for the human to retreat before reaching for the containers himself. “I do not mind if I loose them, but it saves credits I can use elsewhere. Thank you.”

There was no response so Korba stood up and made to leave. As he took a step away, a gravelly voice, hoarse from disuse, spoke. 

“What… what are you? You… you seem… familiar.” The voice trailed off in a whisper, but Korba had heard enough to determine the human was an adult male. Korba had spent many years in his past around humans. 

“I am Ugnaught,” Korba responded and waited. 

“U… Ugnaught,” the human repeated, and then a whole body shake took the human and curled it up on its side. 

Korba stepped closer, but stopped when the human’s voice hissed out at him between clenched teeth. 

“No! Stay away!”

Korba paused and then bowed slightly. 

“I am sorry for your pain. I will respect your wishes.”

And Korba was once again done for the night and made his way home. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, the human was still in its same place, but curled in on itself. Korba looked on in concern as he made his rounds. But concern took Korba nowhere useful or pleasant, so, he tried to reign in his concern, tried to forget his personal satisfaction at having the human willing to take his food and the strips of cloth for its feet, and the triumph felt at the human’s first words to him. Korba forced himself to keep to his routine and not approach the human until last. 

As Korba made his way to the human, he could still see the tremors that wracked its body. As he got closer, he heard the human moan. It was quiet, but it was moan, and a pained one at that. 

Korba knelt as he usually did and slid the food forward. He waited, and his concern grew despite himself as the human made no movement other than to continue its shaking. 

Cautiously, Korba moved forward a little more, placing the container of food next to the human’s hand. The human still did not move other than to shake. 

Last night the instinct to protect itself made the human clearly react to Korba getting closer. Now, it seemed unaware of Korba’s presence. 

Korba realized too late that his approach to the human not only revealed the human’s state to himself, but to any other being watching. And Korba was sure the human’s lack of response had been noted. The Junkyard was that kind of place that always preyed on the weakest. 

With a resigned sigh, Korba settled in on the ground himself. He would wait. He would watch this human while it was unable to watch itself. So much for his rule of not getting involved. However, it was somehow his fault, something he said yesterday, Korba reasoned, and therefore, it was his duty to stay. 

Korba nodded to himself and pulled his coat tight and slid his hat on against the cold night. 

The night was mostly uneventful, for which Korba was grateful. Being here, instead of being able to retreat back to his warm home, reminded Korba of his years spent here. He had never forgotten, but in the dark and cold, on the pavement he once thought he would never leave? It triggered his responses and settled on him like he had never left. 

The eventful part, that was when the Anzellan reappeared, stepping out from the shadows next to the human to narrow its eyes in Korba’s direction. Before Korba knew it, his teeth were bared and he almost lunged at the little being. _Threat!_ His mind screamed. _Kill it before it kills you!_

The Anzellan flinched back, but not into the shadows like it should have done, fleeing. It hunched next to the human and put a hand on the human’s shoulder, shaking it, a look of panic and fear on its face. 

The action of the small Anzellan trying to wake the human snapped Korba out of his raging haze at the threat and he breathed deeply, trying to settle the fury, panic and fear he himself felt at the Anzellan’s sudden appearance. 

_How quickly the monster in me returns_ , Korba thought. The Anzellan was no threat. _How curious it tried to protect the human._

As the Anzellan and Ugnaught stared at each other, Korba realized the small being was wrapped in strips of cloth against the cold, much like the ones he had given the human to wrap its feet. They **were** the strips of cloth he had given the human. _The human could have kept it all for its warmth, instead it gives some to this one who should not survive here._

Korba settled back to his position on the hard ground. Dawn would be here soon. The human still shook, but it had Korba and now the Anzellan to watch after it. 

Korba turned his gaze back out and away from the human, watching, his mind retreating back into the instincts that had kept him alive while he lived in the Junkyard. The Anzellan relaxed, realizing that Korba was also no threat. It settled down against the human and also turned its gaze out and away, also watching. 

As the dawn light grew, Korba started to shake his mind mentally, had to remind himself that he was not trapped here, that he could leave for safety and comfort whenever he wished. It renewed his resolve to help beings in the Junkyard in the small ways that he could, because unlike him, many could not leave, for they had no one and nowhere to go to.

He turned to the human to check on it and saw the Anzellan was gone. The growing light made the human more visible. Instead of shadow upon shadow, Korba could see the human’s slim form outlined under the dingy and gray cloak. The human was still curled up in a tight ball. 

The night had not been uneventful for the human, either. While it had never really moved from its defensive curl, the human had shook and moaned most of the night, though never very loudly, for which instinct Korba was grateful. That kind of attention he would not have been able to hold back, those with ill intentions in mind, if they realized just how vulnerable the human was at that moment.

Once or twice it had even talked. Korba could not quite distinguish the words, but he did not think the human was using Basic, or any other language Korba knew. The human had started to settle as the night grew on. Now, the shaking had stopped. 

Korba debated, very carefully, and then gently placed a hand on where he thought the human’s foot was under the cloak. He braced himself for a violent response, but willing to accept it. One did not touch another, no matter how well intended, in the Junkyard without permission or one courted a violent response. But Korba needed to know if the human was recovered or not. He had a job to go to, which would not look kindly on him being late, or worse, absent. But he would stay with the human if needed. 

Korba held his breath as the human moved under his hand, but no outright violence erupted. The human stirred slightly, then a bit more, and an unsteady hand came out to tug slightly on the hood, revealing one dark eye through a slim gap in the hood. 

“Where is he? Where’s the baby? Is he ok?” The human’s voice was slow and deep with sleep, almost slurred. The eye blinked once and then closed again. 

“Where is who?” Korba asked, and waited while the human still lay between sleep and waking. 

The eye flicked open sharply and the human sat up quickly. Korba jumped back and up to his feet, but no arms or limbs came swinging for him. 

“What… what...” the human stumbled over its words and then just sat staring up at Korba. Korba noted with side interest that the human had wrapped two of the strips of cloth around its hood. The strips held it tight and made it possible for just the one little gap to show the male’s eye without danger of it sliding off. 

“Where is who?” Korba asked again, patient. Did the human mean the Anzellan? Yes, it was small, but it was no baby, though maybe the confused mind made it a baby to the human. 

“I don’t… I don’t know. Who do you mean?” the human mumbled back, irritation lacing its voice. 

“You asked me where he was and if he was ok; a baby. Do you know who ‘he’ is? Do you mean the Anzellan?” Korba said. 

The human did not answer, just slowly drew itself up out of his whole-body curl of many hours, groaning at tight and sore muscles. 

Korba shifted on his feet. Interest and concern for this human kept him here when he should be making his way to his place of employment. Interest and concern had no place in the Junkyard, no matter if one lived there or not, no matter if one tried to make it just a little better by bringing food and supplies. Korba turned to leave. 

“Do you… I don’t know… and I don’t know anyone else here. Do you think, think that he, or someone, is looking for me?” The words were stumbling and hesitant, but held a note of hope and fear that Korba could not ignore. 

_Lost then. Maybe lost **and** hunted._ Korba tried to not reveal his thoughts and concern as he turned back to the human. 

“I know of no one looking for you,” Kobra spoke, “but I will try to hear of it, if there is. For now, stay here, rest and recover. There is food by your side. It is cold, from last night, but it will help nourish you. There is also a container of water. It is yours to keep. Do you have a name?”

The last words came out unexpectedly, but Korba did not regret them. Attachment and interest was dangerous and anonymity protected many of those in the Junkyard. But Korba wanted to help this human that helped others as helpless as itself, so he did not regret his question. 

The human shook its head, but only once, more of a reflexive action than a refusal to share his name. Its next words made its reaction clear. 

“I… I don’t know that. I don’t know my name.”

Korba smiled sadly. _Definitely lost. Those are of the most helpless and vulnerable here._

“Many down here are the same. Rest and recover. I will be back tonight.” Korba responded and then walked away. His job waited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have left kudos and comments! I love them all!


End file.
